


Icarus, Revisited

by virdant



Category: Angelic Layer
Genre: Angst, Gen, Gen Fic, Introspection
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-01
Updated: 2012-11-01
Packaged: 2017-11-17 13:23:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,267
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/552017
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/virdant/pseuds/virdant
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The higher you fly, the closer you get to the sun. Misaki has flown higher than anybody else in Angelic Layer.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Icarus, Revisited

A week after the National Tournament, Misaki still feels like she’s flying.

She’s living with her mother now. It’s a small apartment near the Piffle Princess building and the hospital, but there’s a room for her—she promptly sets Hikaru carefully down on the table to take it in—and while the kitchen isn’t as large as Aunt Shouko’s, it’s already made the same dishes that Misaki’s been making for seven years.

It’s a wonderful home, Misaki declares.

She doesn’t look at the metal railing next to the toilet and the shower. The sink is low, but Misaki insists that’s a good thing, since she’s so short. The kitchen is spotless, gleaming from lack of use, not obsessive cleaning.

A week after the National Tournament, Misaki sits next to her mother and wraps her small hands around Athena. “I’m home,” she says just before she goes to bed, just to see her mother smile and hear her say, “Welcome home.”

 

*

Hikaru flies higher than all the angels except Athena. “It’s because Misaki-chan loves Hikaru very much,” Oujirou says with a faint smile every time Misaki asks why no other angel has wings.

“Don’t you love Wizard?”

Oujirou smiles at her from across the Layer. They’re in Tokyo’s Piffle Princess, in one of the small private rooms that everybody knows about but nobody uses. He’s come from Kobe to visit her—“And Nii-san and Shuuko-san,” he added, dropping Wizard into the layer, “But I wanted to dance with you as well.”—and beneath the headset his eyes are thoughtful as he divides his attention between Wizard and her question. 

“I suppose,” he finally says. “But the way you love Hikaru is different.”

Misaki flushes. “Naaa?”

“Nii-san named them angels because he thought that everybody needed their own angel, somebody to watch over and fight for them.” Oujirou smiles, his gaze on the two angels. “Shuuko-san named them angels because she wanted an angel to carry her away.”

*

Two weeks after the National Tournament, Misaki pulls a box from under her bed.

It’s heavy, the edges of the cardboard box warped from the weight. She tugs on the corner until it slides out, opens the lid and stares in.

She hasn’t written a single letter since she moved in with her mother. She hasn’t felt the need to. The letter on top is from the day before the semi-finals match. She reads about the video from Osaka, about watching Wizard’s magic guard, and how she doesn’t know how to defeat it. She reads about the pictures from the beach trip, about ice cream with Oujirou and watching the sunset.

Misaki is about to reach for the next letter—from the day before—when she hears her mother’s voice. “Misaki?” she calls cheerfully. “It’s time to eat!”

She drops the letter as if it burns, covers the box and hurriedly shoves it under the bed.

Her mother already knows that Misaki’s felt a chasm of emptiness for seven years. She doesn’t need a reminder.

*

At school, everybody talks about Hikaru. They talk about her wings—“Like Athena’s!” about how she stood up after Astral Emission knocked her down, the energy splashing along the boundaries of the Layer. They don’t talk about the way Hikaru rushed at Wizard over and over until she could break his Magic Guard, or how she used the ropes on the ship to get close enough to Elain. They talk so much that Misaki hides on the rooftop during lunches, cradling Hikaru as if to protect her from all the curious faces. 

“They won’t hurt her,” Hatoko reassures her, Suzuka sitting on her wrist. “They just want to love Hikaru too.”

Misaki loves Hikaru so very much, a small piece of her soul coming to life on the Layer. She loves Hikaru for being the best friend she’s never had, for being a constant companion her whole life, for hearing the thoughts that she’s never had the courage to voice aloud.

“I’m happy they love Hikaru.” She cradles the doll, limp and wing-less, as if that will protect Hikaru from the sorrows of the world. _I’m happy they love me._

*

A month after the National Tournament, Misaki sits down at the dining table while her mother is cooking and starts talking.

She talks about her day. About how Tamayo tried a new martial arts move on Koutarou, and even Koutarou choked and flailed his arms like he was dying, his smile was as bright as the lights on the Layer of the National Tournament.

“That’s wonderful, Misaki,” her mother declares.

She doesn’t talk about going to the Piffle Princess with Hatoko after school and practicing until her head pounded, and then sitting down at the café attached and slurping milkshakes purchased with the points the two of them earned in this year’s tournament. She doesn’t talk about the way the tiny bells on Suzuka’s sash and hairtie jingled like she could hear it as they skirmished against each other.

She wants to, she really does. But the words catch in her throat and she can only think of Athena, angel wings spread wide, on the screen outside the train station.

Hikaru and Suzuka seem so small in comparison.

*

“How do you fly?”

Piffle Princess is always crowded after school, but it’s even more so now that the National Tournament is over and Athena has been defeated for the first time. There’s always a crowd in the practice area now; Misaki flushes whenever anybody calls her the Champion and asks her to play with them. Arisu doesn’t ask; she shows up at Misaki’s side and with a sharp tug drags Misaki to an empty Layer, demanding a match.

“Naaa?” Misaki jerks, losing part of her concentration.

Arisu gives her a long look from across the Layer. Inside, Hikaru blocks a three-strike attack from Alice, the bunny ears flopping.

“Athena flies,” Arisu says, “and so did Hikaru in the finals.” Her voice is petulant, nothing like the wide-eyed innocence when she asked to see Hikaru in the Regional Tournament. “How does it work? It’s not in any of the Angels, not even the new one. And the Tournament-allowed accessories don’t include wings that can fly.”

Today, Misaki spent a long minute looking at the new Angel Type on the shelves. From the outside, SI-174 looks the same, the core of the angel curled protectively upon itself in its egg. It’s alone, separated from its Deus by a layer of hard plastic.

“I don’t know,” Misaki says. “I just trusted Hikaru.” And she did. She trusted angel wings to guide her and Hikaru, and they sprung from hope to lead her to her mother.

“Hmph.” Arisu jerks her chin up. “You don’t even know how it works!”

Arisu’s angel missteps—Hikaru steps into Rolling Thunder, the kick knocking the angel out. The limbs crumple pitifully beneath the body on the ground, and Misaki bends down to scoop up Alice.

Arisu takes the angel from Misaki. “You can fly as high as you want.”

Misaki looks at Hikaru, staring solemnly back out at her, waiting for instructions.

Arisu follows her gaze and amends, “Only as far as the Layer.”

*

Two months after the National Tournament, Misaki begins to keep a diary.

Misaki has been writing letters for so long that there’s a chasm where the letters of the past two months should be. A tenuous thread of connection between her and her mother, spun from seven years of unsent letters, suddenly severed. Every evening Misaki talks about her day and her mother describes hers, but the words fade to dust mere hours later.

The diary is something tangible.

She writes everything down, filling page after page with her days. Sometimes she’ll flick through the pages and go back to an old entry and re-read what happened, but usually she opens the book an hour before bed and starts writing by the yellow light of the desklamp.

She writes about Tamayo and Koutarou at school, and about how Misaki—the other Misaki—is more and more in love with Angelic Layer every day, the same things she told her mother earlier today. She writes about fighting against Arisu in Piffle Princess the other day, and how her angel Alice never seemed to fall, which she hasn’t told her mother.

She writes that Hikaru hasn’t flown since the National Championship; that there are two whole months of her life slipping away from her memory; that she loves her mother so much and she’s so happy they’re living together now, and please don’t ever leave me, Okaa-san, even if your legs crumple I want you to be here beside me, I love you, I don’t care if you can’t walk and can’t cook and can’t be a proper mother for me, I don’t want to be alone anymore.

I love you, Okaa-san

Misaki loves her mother, so she never talks about Hikaru grounded to the Layer, the diary in a drawer of her desk, the letters gathering dust under her bed.

*

“I love Blanche as if she were my own daughter,” Kaede always says softly. “That’s why I let her fight even when she’s hurt. Because if I didn’t, then she would regret it, and that’s not fair to her.”

Kaede comes to Tokyo on some weekends; sometimes Jounouchi Sai comes as well, bringing Shirahime. The training rooms in Piffle Princess haven’t been updated with the Environmental Layers yet, so sometimes they fight on the flat surface, and other times they just dance. Blanche glides over the Layer regardless of the terrain, and Misaki finds herself staring, trying to emulate the effortless motion.

Misaki asks, “What was your mother like, Kaede-san?”

“Far away.” She smiles gently. “She and my father divorced many years ago.”

Misaki stared. “Do you ever see her?”

“Not very often. But I see Blanche every day.” She smiles, and Blanche twirls in the Layer, like she’s floating. “Shuu-san is your mother, isn’t she? It must have been so wonderful to watch her fly growing up.”

Misaki smiles.

“It must be nice to watch Hikaru fly,” Kaede adds. 

Misaki agrees. Hikaru doesn’t fly though. There’s nobody to fly to, anymore.

*

Four months after the National Tournament, Misaki’s mother stands on new legs.

They start slow, walking around the small apartment, clutching each other’s arms. Each step is hard, and Misaki struggles under her mother’s weight.

“You don’t have to be here, Misaki,” Shuuko says, a hand resting on the countertop. Beads of sweat dot her forehead, but she’s standing on legs that aren’t crumbling under her weight.

There are a thousand protests on the tip of Misaki’s tongue, a thousand excuses to stay close. She bites them back, swallows her courage, and backs out of the kitchen.

From her bedroom, she can hear the sound of her mother slowly, steadily, learning how to walk on new legs—first slowly, and then faster and faster until it’s effortless. Shuuko makes dinner to celebrate, promises that they’ll go shopping that weekend, swings Misaki around and around as she twirls on smooth plastic legs.

Misaki writes about the first successful multiple sclerosis treatment in her diary: it sounds like flying through heartbreak.

*

“Fly, Misaki,” Oujirou says softly. He watches her from across the layer. “You know you can.”

Misaki shakes as she pulls her headset off. Slowly, Hikaru crumples to the ground, a puppet with its strings cut. “I want to learn how to ride a bike,” she says, and her voice chokes in her throat.

Oujirou watches her, sitting across the layer, hands resting on the armrests. There’s no expression on his face except for calm amusement. Finally, he asks, “What are you scared of?”

Of falling, Misaki thinks. For years, she’s only known emptiness where her mother should be. With Hikaru, she’s grown wings to fly across, but that merely means that when she falls, the ground will be further down.

“Don’t you trust Hikaru?”

“Of course!” Misaki’s shaking.

“Hikaru flew to catch Athena.” In the Layer, Wizard’s stance shifts until he’s kneeling next to Hikaru. He reaches with his gloved hands and cradles Hikaru’s head in his lap. “She grew wings to guide you.” A pause. “To guide you to Shuuko-san.”

Misaki watches as Wizard brushes a hand over Hikaru’s face.

Oujirou smiles at her, a smile of infinite possibilities. “In the summer, we’ll bike on the streets of Tokyo, visit Kobe and Wakayama, go to the beach to watch the sunset.” He looks at Wizard and Hikaru. “Before then, you can fly in the Layer.”

Misaki’s hands are steady when she slides the headset over her eyes. Wizard supports Hikaru as her eyes open and she stands.

Hikaru flies higher than she has before, across a chasm of infinite yearning.

*

One summer day, Oujirou knocks on the door to the small apartment near the Piffle Princess building. He’s come from Kobe, three hours on the Shinkansen, to take her to the beach. “We’ll watch the sunset and come back,” he says. Her mother and Icchan tease Oujirou, joking that he better bring Misaki home safe.

“I won’t let Misaki-chan fall,” Oujirou promises, and extends a hand to Misaki.

Misaki looks at it, and then up at Oujirou’s smile. “Wait a moment please,” she chirps, tucking Hikaru under her arm and scurrying into her bedroom. 

Her fingers miss the cardboard box under her bed twice, and she has to bend down and stick her head under the bedframe before she can pull it out.

They carry the letters to the sea and watch the smoke curl up into the clouds.

**Author's Note:**

> [Chemorphesis](http://chemorphesis.webs.com)   
>  [Masterlist of CLAMP fanfiction here](http://virdant.livejournal.com/36627.html#cutid1)   
>  [Masterlist of fandoms here](http://virdant.livejournal.com/663.html)


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